


Clear the bed to lie on darling, make a mess of me.

by lipstickandlovenotes (orphan_account)



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lipstickandlovenotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cath, a timid, quiet worker bee at Google Inc., (yes, the illustrious search engine,) has been chosen to write scripts, moving her to Wales - temporarily - to write for Doctor Who! She doesn't know anyone. She's hasn't been in a relationship for a while - since her teen years. So why is she falling for the show's lead - and the supporting role?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spoilersweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoilersweetie/gifts).



> First fic, so my character's a Mary-Sue, I know, I know, please don't attack me for it! Not beta'd. And I don't know how the BBC works - behind the scenes, at least, so there are some things I purposefully left out. If anyone could fill me in that'd be nice.
> 
> Oh and spoilersweetie, I gifted it t you because I luff your fics and I was reading them way before I got an account on here and you were one of the reasons I did so, hope I don't sound creepy.

  
  
_"I can do this."_  
  
I whispered the words into my palm as I hid behind my pristine white iPad, checking the flight times on my Virgin Atlantic app. Flight as scheduled, thankfully.   
  
I was in a "clubhouse," so to speak, courtesy of Virgin Atlantic First Class, but I didn't know anyone, so I just kept to myself with my iPad and iPhone. It was dark and swank, and soft music played. Thank you, Google! I had just had my nails done earlier in the day to make a good impression, but mainly just sat alone on the couch for the last hour and a half.  
  
"Flight six-twenty-five, to Cardiff departing from John F. Kennedy Airport, boarding at gate six fifty-eight. First call, all upper class passengers, please board the plane."  
  
That's me. I gingerly clicked my iPad back in its equally pristine case, and put it in my carry-on. I checked to make sure my phone was safely in my pocket, and picked up my two suitcases. I advanced toward the line. I was at the front, as usual. One of the flight attendants took my boarding ticket and allowed me to pass.   
I was greeted by a smiling flight attendant welcoming me to Virgin Atlantic Airlines. Putting my baggage in the overhead compartment and sliding into my deliciously comfortable seat, I waited patiently for the plane to start....you know, flying. All the warnings made me nervous. What if I die in flight? What if our plane gets bombed?  
  
 _“Catharine Margalo Larkspur Asquith. You are twenty-eight years old. Much too old for this worrying bullshit.”_ That little voice in the back of my mind snapped me out of it. I fiddled nervously with my tongue barbell and hoped this unsettling feeling would pass. 

* * *

 

  
Once we began to lift off, I felt a slight pang of relief. I had my Playboy pajama pants (I'd had them since university, all right?) and Victoria's Secret pajama top in my backpack, but I'd put them on when we picked up speed. I looked out the window and saw my beloved New York become nothing but a spray of lights beneath me. I was the new writer for Doctor Who, for the time being, after the old one was suspended. Google loaned me out. I worked for them in New York. I was all but excited to be on the same level as Steven Moffat, the writer and brains of the whole thing. I began to worry some more. What if they don't like me? What if they don't like my tongue ring? What if they think my tattoos are gauche? If my freckles were.... _ugly?_  
  
I took my backpack into the bathroom and quickly changed, took off my makeup and brushed my teeth. I scuttled back to my seat, pressed a button and my seat converted to a bed. I changed the channel up one. Absolutely Fabulous was on. Perfect. I let all my worries drift away and drowned myself in the crazy shenanigans of Patsy Stone and Edina Monsoon. 

* * *

  
I woke up, and checked the flight map. 2:57 a.m. We'd only an hour left. Steven had given me the next day to find my feet and get settled, thank heaven. 

  
_"Wheels on fi-ire_   
_Rolling down the roaddddddd_   
_Best notify my next of kin_   
_This wheel shall explooooooode...."_

The Ab Fab theme song felt comfortable and familiar, oddly enough. 

  
"Saffy darling, we didn't HAVE cameras back then!" I slowly slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep until we landed.

 

* * *

  
" We'd like to thank you for traveling on Virgin Atlantic Airlines. Welcome to Cardiff," a flight attendant announced. Holy fuck. Wales already? At 3 a.m.? Oh mies! Time flies.   
  
I got off the plane, still in my pajamas, went through all the stupid security shit, got into a cab (thank you again, Google!) and checked into my hotel, top floor. I tossed my things onto the floor near my bed, plugged my iPhone and iPad in, and drifted off to sleep. Again. 

* * *

  
The next morning, I instinctively kicked to shove my cats, Ninotchka and Winkie, off the bed, and felt a pang of homesickness when I remembered they weren't there. I helped myself to a room service breakfast of Belgian waffles, and took a shower. The water felt nice against my jetlagged body. I took advantage of the free toiletries and scrubbed all the dirt off my skin.   
  
I put on my red ruffled top, blue skirt and black cork wedges, and of course, my black wayfarer glasses. Couldn’t see without ’em.   
  
Picking up my lucky Kate Spade purse, I set out to take on the world.   
I had never been out of the country, so I just picked a direction and started walking. It wasn't long before I hit the buzzing heart of Wales. I was surrounded by people. What's the first thing I do? Go shopping! I got five pairs of shoes, two new dresses, new lingerie, six pairs of earrings, four new tongue rings and belly button rings respectively, countless shorts and tops, one helluva lot of makeup and a few new pairs of stockings, only blowing half of the cash I earned in a month.   
Hitting up Starbucks for lunch, I felt better about starting work the next day.   
  
Oh and I also got some cupcakes for the cast and crew as a nice gesture. 

 

* * *

  
I dragged my fork across the top of my Lobster Newberg. Studio B was a new, hip restaurant and was rising through the ranks. I read its reviews on Yelp and decided to go there for dinner. I sat alone, as usual, in the dark, sophisticated atmosphere and I guess I seemed to blend in because no one was talking to me or anything.   
Which was sad and a relief at the same time. I finished half of my Lobster Newberg, washed it down with some of my tomato juice, and went to work on the other half.  I put my fork down, looked at the lamps on the wall and began to zone out. 

As soon as I lifted my head to look at another place in the room, a pair of hazel eyes met my blue ones.   
  
“Hey babe, do you have any Scottish in you?”  
  
Oh mies, is he coming onto me? Well, he isn’t bad. Go figure, English accent. Blue suit, red tie, curly black hair. Stubble! And deep dimples like mine! God damn, he had it all! Wait, Cath, don't fall just yet.   
  
“No.”  
  
“Want some?”  
  
“Oh mies, I’m flattered!” I blushed instinctively.   
  
“‘Mies?’ That’s new. You’re weird. I like that.”  
  
I giggled and touched my glasses. He’s silver-tongued! Even hotter. I fall easily.   
  
“So....what drew you to me, of all people?” I asked, batting my eyes.   
  
“All the other birds here turned me down. But you’ve a funny accent. Where r’you from?”  
  
“Massachusetts; but I was born in Chelsea.” I have a pretty strong Mid-Atlantic accent, like Bette Davis or Katharine Hepburn. So I get asked where I’m from a lot. People either think I’m Australian or English, even though I am the latter.  
  
“Oh an American girl! You just keep getting hotter, don’t you love? Are you into music?”  
  
“Why yes!”  
  
“Where have you been all my life?!”  
  
“America,” I winked.   
  
“You done? I'll buy.”  
  
“Oh that's very sweet of you, bu—”  
  
“Nonsense. A pretty girl like you shoudn’t have to. I'll buy.”  
  
  
He handed the server his card, and voila! That is how I struck up legit conversation with someone I just met, without even knowing his name, and got him to buy me dinner. First day in Wales and all this happened! I’m on a roll!  
  
“By the way what’s your name?”  
  
“Cath. Cath Asquith.”  
  
“Can I have your number, babe?”  
  
“Sure!” I took the red Sharpie I always kept in my pocket and scribbled my digits on his palm.   
  
“Thank you so much, dahling,” I said gratefully. “You’re a gentleman.”  
  
“No problem, baby,” he answered. “Text you tomorrow, yeah?”  
  
“All right. Not too early. G’night.”  
  
As I walked out, I couldn’t help but overhear him talking to his friend.   
  
“I just chatted up the prettiest girl! And she gave me her number! God she was fit as hell! Very nice!”  
  
As I strutted out and back to my hotel, I wondered if Cardiff would be as bad as I thought.   
  
Probably not. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cath starts her first day at the BBC - and falls in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters might be off and this whole thing might move a little fast, but hell, I tried.

I woke up to the vibrations of my iPhone, the alarm in my Nightstand app nagging me to wake up. I stopped the alarm and stumbled into the bathroom.   
  
Half asleep, I undressed and waited for the shower to warm up. When it did, I jumped in and washed quickly but thoroughly.   
  
I got out, toweled off and quickly blow-dried my hair.  
  
I went back into my hotel room and got out my lucky outfit. Navy Ralph Lauren blazer with gold buttons, Alice + Olivia mint-green body-con skirt, tight but tastefully professional ruffled white blouse that showed off my cleavage (but not too much) and black peep-toe bow pumps. (Betsey Johnson and worth every penny!) And—oh yes—my glasses. 

 

As I was brushing my hair, I remembered to grab some body jewelry so my holes wouldn’t close up, no pun intended.  
  
I popped in my belly ring, a modest gold barbell, cleaned my hip jewellry, put flashy Chopard diamond studs in my ears and a silver barbell in my tongue.   
  
I put my clothes on, brushed my teeth, and teased my hair slightly.   
  
Next, I smoothed on pink lipstick (NARS Schiap) and spritzed on my favorite perfume, “Oh, Lola!” by Marc Jacobs.  I grabbed my iPad, iPhone and charger, cupcakes, necessary paperwork, notebook, pen and clipboard, I slipped out of my hotel room and sought to make a good impression at my new workplace.   
  
Driving into Cardiff, I stopped at a Starbucks for a “cuppa” and lunch, then kept going, nervously until I reached the studio.   
  
I let myself in, and as soon as I did, my phone buzzed.   
  
The conference room is upstairs and the second door to the right. - Steven  
  
Cheers!, I texted back.   
  
I ventured up the staircase and found the second door to my right; which was open.  
  
A short, stocky man emerged, with dark, greying hair, piercing dark eyes and a warm smile.   
  
“Ah, you must be Catharine! I’m Steven. Steven Moffat.” He said with gusto and extended his hand. “Putt’er there!”  
  
I put my iPad, coffee and other things down on the floor and shook his hand.   
  
“Charmed,” I said anxiously.   
  
“Well come on in,” he gestured to the door.   
  
I picked up my things and went inside.   
  
“Everyone, this is Catharine, our new writer and consultant.”  
  
“Hi,” I said quietly.   
  
No one responded. Except for this one redhead woman.   
  
“Hello!” She said brightly, waving, her words marked with a Scottish accent, like Steven’s but far from masculine. She looked around at everyone and frowned. “Urgh! You guys! We have to make Catharine feel welcome!”   
  
“Mmmfffff!” everyone else grumbled.  
  
“Take a seat anywhere you like.” Steven said.   
  
I looked around at everyone. Where should I sit? I didn't know anyone. There was this one lady with the best golden-blonde curly hair I'd ever seen and she looked nice. She smiled politely. So I sat in the swivel chair between her and the ginger.  
  
“Now that Catharine’s here, let’s get down to business. Catharine do you have the script?” Steven asked.   
  
“What script?”  
  
  
“The script I e-mailed you last Tuesday. Don’t you remember? Scene five.”  
  
“Oh right, that one.” I put my iPad on the table, unlocked it, and opened my e-mail. Scrolled for a bit. I opened the annotated page and waited patiently for him to continue.   
  
I quickly switched apps and launched Evernote.  
  
At first, I took notes on what he was saying, like I always do when someone’s talking.   
  
Then the app started fucking up. I tried to fix it, in vain. After about three minutes, I thought “to hell with it!” and began recording what he was saying with DragonDictation.   
  
While I left my iPad on the table to record, I assessed my new co-workers, an interesting sort.   
  
The rest of the people at the table were two other guys. One was tall and really pale, kinda like a vampire, sans fangs and sparkles. Deep-set, grey-green eyes. Lovely eyes. Also, he had a sharp chin, large nose, dark hair that flopped to one side of his square face; he ran his hand through his hair every couple of seconds. I liked him already. Instant attraction. Not sure why though.   
The other wasn’t as tall. He also had greenish eyes, but bigger than the other’s and with a more dreamy, indie aura about him. Oh not to mention, adorable sandy-colored spiky hair and a weird nose. Like a rabbit.   
  
The vampire and the rabbit.   
  
Although both were insanely attractive.   
  
“....do you have anything to add, Catharine?” Steven’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.   
  
“Oh, no. I think that’s a brilliant idea.” I said quickly, smiling.   
  
“Good. Now on to the improvements being made to the TARDIS....”  
  
I zoned out and took in my surroundings.   
  
The curly haired lady on my right looked engaged. She had really pretty eyes too, a mossy green. Even the ginger to the left of me had hazel eyes.   
  
I sat there with my big ass blue eyes, which are two different shades of blue (one is that dark blue that you see in glass bottles and the other is like, a sky-aqua blue) wondering what the hell was going on.   
  
I looked at my comrades again.   
  
The Ginger was keeping up perfectly with whatever Steven was saying; and asking a bajillion questions to boot.   
  
Vampire and Rabbit looked just as spaced out as I. Rabbit flashed me a wink and a grin. I blushed. I shifted uneasily, discreetly checked my Tumblr. and Instagram. I put my iPad down and switched to DragonDictation. Again. 

* * *

  
I sat alone during lunch break, isolated from the rest of the cast and crew. I put my Starbucks bag on the table and took out a poppyseed salmon bagel, water, kettle corn, and vanilla scones.   
  
I was about to start eating, when who should come over to me but Ginger.  
  
“Hi!” She chirped.   
  
“Er....hello,” I said, a tad surprised.   
  
“You look all lonely sittin’ by yourself over there. I’m Karen or Kaz. Come sit with us, yeah?”  
  
I paused. _“Go on you, socially awkward fatty, make some friends!”_ My gut told me. _“They’re not gonna_ kill _you!”_  
  
“Thank you.” I threw everything back in the bag and followed her over to where everyone else (read: Vampire, Rabbit, Curly-Hair) was sitting.  
  
Did I mention Vampire and Rabbit were there?   
  
I coyly sat between Curly-Hair and Rabbit. This should be fun-ish.   
  
“Oi, Kazza, who’s the new girl?” Vampire ran a hand through his hair, again.   
  
“Were you two stupid faces even paying attention this morning?” Karen asked indignantly. “She’s Catharine, the new writer! Duh!”  
  
“But on most calendar days I’m Cath,” I said, giggling nervously. “Or awkward.”  
  
“Oh right right. Hi, I’m Arthur,” Rabbit answered.   
  
“I’m Matt,” Vampire waved.   
  
“I’m Alex,” Curly-Hair said, smiling genially.   
  
“Nice to meet all of you.” I said, taking out my lunch and taking a bite of my bagel. I eat my lunch in alphabetical order, just ’cause I’m peculiar like that.   
  
Awkward silence.   
  
“So, Catharine, how about ducks?” Arthur broke the ice.   
  
“I don’t know, how about ducks?” I responded.   
  
“Ducks are evil,” Karen said matter-of-factly, stirring her gazpacho.   
  
“What makes you say that?” Arthur asked.   
  
“They just are! With their beady little eyes and....just igghhk!” Karen shuddered.   
  
“So much for light conversation about ducks,” Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.  
  
“How about markers?” Matt asked.   
  
“I love markers,” I took a bite of my salmon bagel. “They’re my favourite medium.”  
  
“Medium? What’s that?”   
  
“Yes. A medium is the materials someone uses to make a work of art; like oil paint and a canvas for the Mona Lisa.” I pushed my glasses further up on my nose.   
  
“Psh, I knew that,” Karen rolled her eyes.   
  
“Look at ’er. Geek,” Matt smirked and chuckled. “Pushing her glasses up li’that.”  
  
My face reddened to my ears and I shifted uneasily.   
  
“I do that so I can see better,” I corrected timidly.   
  
“Aww, you made her blush,” Arthur nudged Matt in the forearm. “Lookit, she’s blushing!” he gestured towards me. Which made me blush even more. I bit my magenta bottom lip. Shoot me now. Just fucking shoot me.   
  
“Oh let her be, will you,” Alex stepped in. “You idiots barely know her.” She put her arm around me.   
  
“Oh and you do, Kingston?” Matt retorted playfully.   
  
“Um—” Alex started.   
  
“Didn’t think so.” Matt finished.   
  
“I, for one, think your glasses are cool,” Karen defended me as well. “Can I try ’em on?”   
  
“Er, they’re really strong prescription, but okay,” I took off my glasses and handed them to Karen.   
  
“How do I look?” She asked, reeling backward with the strength of my prescription. “They’re makin’ me dizzy!”  
  
“Like a nerd.” Arthur snickered. “No offense, Catharine.”  
“None taken.” I took out my iPad, which had become a white, fuzzy square without my glasses, and attempted to unlock it.   
A red bar flashed across the top of the screen.   
  
“Karen, I know you like my glasses, but I really, really can’t see clearly without ’em.” I reached towards her.   
  
“Oh, sorry,” Karen took my glasses off, put them back on my face and the world became clear again.   
  
“So....” I trailed off. “Do you like cupcakes?”  
  
“I do!” Karen squealed excitedly.   
  
“What kind of cupcakes?” Alex raised her eyebrows playfully.   
  
“Yeah, what kind?” Arthur imitated.   
  
“I have cookies-and-cream, strawberry shortcake, cheesecake, and red velvet.”  
  
The cast cheered.   
  
“But—” I paused dramatically.   
  
They quieted.   
  
“I only have two red velvet. And they’re cream filled.”   
  
I opened the box I brought the cupcakes in and put it on the table.   
  
“Here, go attack each other,” I joked, grabbing a strawberry cupcake.   
  
And attack they did!   
  
When Matt reached for one, I pulled back them back a little.  
  
“Wha—Hey!” he stuttered.   
  
“You called me a geek, you don’t deserve one,” I joked, giggling.   
  
He sighed, rolled his eyes and recoiled. “I didn't mean it.”  
  
“But you can have one anyway to be fair.”  
  
His face lit up, and without looking he grabbed one, as greedily as an eight-year-old on Christmas. “Cheers!”  
  
The two lucky ones were Alex and Arthur.   
  
“Alex, you cheated,” Matt pouted.   
  
“No,” Alex shook her head. “I saw it first.” She removed the wrapper from the minute crimson pastry. “Oh my God, it’s so cute! I don’t think I can eat it, I’d feel guilty.”   
  
  
“Y’know; if you really can’t eat it....” Matt trailed off sheepishly and reached towards Alex’s cupcake.   
  
“Oh no way in hell.” Alex held it out of his reach and then took the biggest bite possible. “Delicious, fabulous.”  
  
“Selfish,” Matt muttered, licking the grey icing off his own cookies-and-cream-cupcake.   
  
“Oi, greedy pigs, whaddaya say to Cath? She didn’t have to do this.” Karen prompted. “Thanks Cath!”  
  
“Ah, cheers Catharine,” Arthur nodded.   
  
“Cheers!” Matt said around a mouthful of cupcake.   
  
“Thanks so much Catharine,” Alex said.   
  
Steven appeared over Matt’s shoulder.   
  
“Catharine, you made cupcakes and didn’t tell me? Oh all right. Be like that.” He folded his arms.   
  
I handed him the last one, a strawberry cupcake with a star on top.   
  
“Thanks!”   
  
“Don’t mention it,” I polished off the rest of my lunch and cupcake.   
  
“These are so good,” Arthur said, mouth full. “My compliments to the chef.” He nodded towards me.   
  
“Oh thank you,” I blushed. I didn't have the heart to say I _bought_ them.  
  
I think I'm gonna like it here.   
  


* * *

  
I don’t really remember what happened between lunch and the end of the day.   
  
What I do remember was when I was when I was packing up for the end of the day, Matt and Arthur stayed back to “help me.”   
  
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I questioned innocently.   
  
“Well....er....you’re new,” Arthur said sheepishly. He liked me, but as a friend. I could see it in his eyes, cloudy and thoughtful usually, had brightened with his interest in me even though he tried to hide it.   
  
“Not that I don’t like it,” I added quickly.   
  
“Good,” Matt said, blushing and fidgeting. “Ca-can I carry your iPad?” He liked me too. No doubt. It was all over his face. And body language. The gangly Brit was much easier to read than Arthur. So obvious he probably didn’t even know it. I handed him my iPad reluctantly.   
  
“No worries I won’t break it,” he joked.   
  
“So....Catharine....” Matt started.   
  
“Yes?” I crooned playfully.   
  
“Are you....doing anything tomorrow night?” He gingerly set my iPad on the front seat of my rental car.   
  
“Why?” I asked as flirtatiously as possible and looked over my shoulder. Arthur had busied himself alphabetizing my paperwork. Strange. He caught my gaze and waved. I waved back.   
  
“I wanna....y’know....take you out to....er....dinner, maybe?” He looked at me with puppy eyes. He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with a long-fingered palm. Aww, he was nervous! Kinda cute, like a little baby giraffe.   
  
“Oh! All right then. I’m free at seven tomorrow....?”  
  
“Seven? Great! I guess I’ll....pick you up then? Can I—”  
  
“Yes.” I cut him off and pulled my ubiquitous Sharpie out of my pocket. “Show me your hand.”  
  
“Um....okay.” Matt extended one of his bony, pale arms. I uncapped the Sharpie and etched my name, phone number and hotel room number into his palm.   
  
“Thanks!” Matt said cheerfully. He looked like he could soar. Even cuter! Oh, that smile. It could light up a neighborhood. So I will see you tomorrow at seven?”   
  
“Yep,” I winked.   
  
“So....um...bye!” he bounded off gleefully. How cute! 

  
As soon as I got back to my hotel room, I checked my phone. Four new messages, but no missed calls. 

  
  _Hello ;) its Matt x_

_hi Cath! Nice meeting you today. Dont let Matt and Arthur get to you. They fancy you & thats their way of showing it. I'd take it as a compliment ;) x Karen _

_Hi its Arthur_

  
  
  
To Matt: _hey :D_

  
To Karen: _Oh....okay okay. That's why they were being so nice to me. Matt asked me out :3_

  
To Arthur: _Hullo! :)_

  
  
As soon as I replied to Karen, she responded too and thus began a chain reaction.   
  
Karen: _Omg really?! He faaaaancies youuuu :) have fun you two. Don't get pregnant lol._  
Me: _get pregnant? What is on yourrrrrr mind?? ;)_  
Karen: _He's.... like that, you'll see_.   
Me: _he's adorable c: :3_  
Karen: _you fancy him???? :O_  
Me: _can you keep a secret?_  
Karen: _why?_  
Me: _i do like him :3_  
Karen: _aha! I knew it!_  
Me: _but i like arthur too..._  
Karen: _go for Matt, Arthur can actually GET a gf apart from WHO Matt doesn't stand a chance. idiot._  
Me: _ouch! all right. This should b fun._  
Karen: _I knew it! He likes you a lot l can tell by the way he looks at you._    
Me: _really?_  
Karen: _you kidding??? He can't take his eyes off you xx_  
Me: _Awh, I never had that kind of attention back in the states. all the HOT guys thought I was....strange :(_  
Karen: _shame on them! You're gorgeous, girl! <3 I don't know what the hell they DIDN'T see in you. I was jealous of your eyes :)_  
Me: _Awh right back atcha sista! xxx And don’t be they can't see shit w/o glasses or contacts._  
Karen: _:D gotta go Pastas ready!_  
Me: _byeee!_

  
Welp, I made a friend on the first day! Achievement! Chalk one up for Catharine.   
  
Matt and Arthur both texted me the same thing simultaneously: _what're you doing?_  
  
So I thought I’d throw ’em a curveball.   
  
To Arthur: _Reading_  
To Matt: _Looking at the new script and checking my e-mail....at the same time!_  
  
My phone buzzed again.   
From Arthur: _What book? x_  
From Matt: You wanna give me a spoiler? x  
  
These flirts.   
  
To Arthur: Maximum Ride xxx  
To Matt: Ha, noyesmaybe. (;  
  
I looked over the script one last time, Instagrammed a picture of it to Tumblr., and made myself some ramen noodles (trashy I know, but one of my favorite foods,) before curling up with some good ol’ fashioned X-Files.   
  
And my phone vibrated yet again.   
  
Matt: _You tease!_  
  
Did they really like me? What about me was there to...like? I’m excitable, I’m moody. I’m clumsy, impatient, I’m a fucking geek, for fuck’s sake! I was sure they'd fall for Karen before they fell for me.   
  
 _“You ungrateful New Englander bitch,”_ said my conscience.  _“It’ll be the first boyfriend you’ve had since sixth fucking grade! He broke your heart! Nothing ventured nothing gained, Miss Philosopher!”_  
  
I smiled inwardly, and texted back Matt.   
  
Lord knows I wasn’t complaining. 


	3. Java and Jitters

  
  
In the morning, I put my clothes on and ventured back into Cardiff to prep for my date with Matt.   
  
I picked up some emergency chocolate and decided to explore my surroundings.   
  
Not long after that, I got a text from Matt. Speak of the devil.   
  
 _I can't wait to see you tonight xx_  
  
I texted him back quickly: _Mutual. :)_  
  
Naturally, I shoved my phone in the back of my khaki Sevens and headed into Barnes and Noble.   
  
I haven’t been there in ages. I breathed in the homey scent of books and relished it. Noticing I was holding up foot-traffic, I picked up my pace and continued.   
  
As soon as I got upstairs, guess what I bumped into as I was texting and walking?  
  
A whole table of Doctor Who books!   
  
Damn, I thought. Whovians going crazy. I figured I'd study a little and selected a few books to purchase. Oh, and a TARDIS coffee mug; just for kicks.   
  
I went to the second level to get a coffee, and who do I see but Karen.  
  
And—as luck would have it—she notices me. Fuck.   
  
“Hi Cath!” She said cheerfully, eyes sparkling.   
  
“Hiya, Karen!” I answered equally brightly.   
  
“What brings you here?” she questioned.   
  
“Oh, just thought I would do a little research today and I came to get some reference material.”  
  
“‘Research?’” Karen laughed. “You make it sound like a test.”   
  
“Well, er....that’s what I’m doing though,” I said, pushing my glasses onto my nose.   
  
“I was gonna go get Starbucks downstairs....”  
  
“Oh me too,” she answered, picking up her books and heading towards the Starbucks at the other end of the floor. I lagged behind a little to collect my books and purse; then caught up with her.   
  
“So, when’s your....”  
  
“Date with Matt? Tonight at seven. Why?”  
  
“Ooooo!” Karen twittered excitedly. “Seems a li’le bold to ask you out after he just met you yesterday, yeah?”   
  
“I don’t know....kinda like this attention after being single for fifteen-odd mo—years,” I admitted.   
  
“Fifteen?” Karen asked incredulously. “You’ve been single for that long?”  
  
“Well, I do have two cats back home,” I said quietly, feeling a sudden twinge of homesickness.   
  
“Really? What are their names?”   
  
“Ninotchka and Winkie.” I showed her a picture of them on my phone.   
  
“Oh my God, adorable! They’re so fluffy! I wish I could reach through your screen! I just wanna squish ’em!” Karen cooed.   
  
“Thanks! Ninotchka is getting fat though. She’s the brown one.”  
  
“Well, I’m sure she’s furry enough to pull it off.”  
  
I ordered a hot pink hibiscus-ginger ice drink-thing while Karen got iced coffee.   
  
“So, what’re you gonna be doing all day?” Karen asked between a sip of her iced coffee.   
  
“I told you. Researching.” I answered humbly.   
  
“Right right. Anyways, I wanna help you get ready tonight.”  
  
“Really? Great! I’m at the Parc, just down the street from here and around the corner. The top floor, room 1616,” I answered. “You can do everything.”  
  
Karen tapped at the keys on her Blackberry. “Got it. I set an alarm. And great! This should be fun.”  
  
“Okay! I’ll look for you.”  
  
“Likewise! I’ll be over about six, six-thirty. See you tonight, sista! Oh and prepare to be....tutored!”  
  
“All right!” I paid for my books, headed back to my hotel room and set to work.   
•

* * *

  
The knock on the door startled me out of my studynap. I looked at my iPad. 6:29. Right on time.   
  
“Cath, it’s me,” came Karen’s accented voice.   
  
I went over to the door and let my Titian-haired acquaintance in.   
  
“Hiya, sista!” I greeted her.   
  
“Hey!” Karen sat a mini-duffle on my bed. She sighed and unzipped it. “We should start with your hair and makeup. Always do that first. Do you have a hairbrush?”  
  
I handed her my red paddle brush; and as soon as I did, she pulled it through my thick hair, eliminating all knots and tangles.   
  
It hurt a little, but it was worth it once my hair was all bouncy and shiny when she was done.   
  
She put some pomade in her hands and teased my hair slightly with her fingers; so it was slightly messy but voluminous.   
  
“Now you have that....” Karen searched for words. “....sexy, just-shagged look.”   
  
“Yeah, way to be subtle,” I said sarcastically.   
  
“What? It does! I like it like that.”  
  
“Er....”  
  
“Makeup time!” Karen giggled. “Gimme yours.” She extended her hands. I handed her my full-to-bursting Clinique makeup bag.   
  
She handed me my sparkly dark grey liquid eyeliner. “Here, put this on.”   
  
I complied. “Close your eyes,” Karen demanded. She stood over me (she’s quite tall) brushed my smoky eyeshadow palate on my eyelids and mascara on my long thick eyelashes. Luckily I was wearing my contacts.   
  
“Pucker up.” Karen wielded my Victory Red YSL lipstick.   
  
“Be careful with that thing, it was expensive,” I warned.   
  
“Got it!” Karen tightened her grip on the lipstick. “Now pucker up.”   
  
I puckered my lips, and Karen applied my lipstick in three quick swipes.   
  
“Keep ’em like that,” Karen dug into my makeup bag once more, and pulled out my clear NARS lipgloss and put it on over my lipstick.   
  
“Is it done?” I asked.   
  
“Yep!”   
  
“Outfiiiiiit!” Karen squealed. “Where are you clothes and things?”   
  
“Um....you can pick out something from the new stuff I got on Thursday,” I gestured to the multitude of shopping bags on the floor.   
  
“Damn! How much did you buy?”   
  
“About two-thousand pounds worth of clothes, shoes and jewellry,” I answered happily. Karen pawed through the bags   
and held up black Ella Moss pleated cuffed shorts, a cobalt-blue chiffon Betsey Johnson bubble top with a big, floppy black grosgrain bow accenting plunging neckline and my red Blowfish bow wedges.   
  
“This.”  
  
“That?” I asked. The sleeveless top? Really? It was cute and all; but it'd show the cuts and scars on my arms. I had a cutting problem. It was one of the only ways I dealt with pain I felt besides art. Razors, box cutters, scissors, even the X-Acto knife I used for collages.   
  
But did I really want to give that away to Karen? I barely knew her.  
  
Oh no.   
  
“Yes! You’ll be irresistible,” she assured me.  
  
“Really? I’ll take your word for it.”  
  
“No no no, he won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”  
  
“Okay....” I trailed off. “But wait....it'll show my....” My what? I couldn’t tell her I was a cutter! She’d be repulsed!  
  
“Your....?” Karen asked pointedly.   
  
  
“My....my....fat! And tattoos!” I protested.   
  
“Fat?” Karen raised an eyebrow.   
  
“Yes!”   
  
 _“Fat?”_ Karen put her hands on my shoulders. “Psh! That’s not fat. What you have? Those are curves! That’s a good thing. Look at me, I don't have a figure like you. I'm a stick! Now go put these on.”   
  
“All right.” I picked up the outfit from the bed and hurried into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, one hand on my hip.  
  
I was short, shorter than Alex or even Karen, and—ahem, zaftig, as it were, with wide hips, well-endowed, you could say, with a  full bosom and tiny waist. I had deep back dimples and a soft stomach.   
My long, wavy layered hair was a little messy, but in a good....just-shagged....kind of way. Karen was right. It lightened from dark chestnut to blonde at the tips, ombré. My large blue eyes stood out in my round chubby face, thanks to the grey liquid eyeliner. My freckles peppered my upturned nose, breaking the smooth ivory-like color of my skin. I pinched my deep-dimpled chipmunk cheeks a little to give them color. My pedicured sausage-toes stuck out of my large size-ten shoes. It was usually my figure and big hobbit feet people commented on. I looked at my arms. The thin red scabs crisscrossed my skin like tiger stripes. I pulled some concealer out . My lips looked plump and tempting though redder. I put the clothes on and came back out.   
  
“You look phenomenal!” Karen complimented. “And now the finishing touch....jewelry!” She reached into the little black Givenchy shopping bag and pulled out my new sterling-silver medallion earrings, dangly white-gold belly ring and a hot pink tongue ring.  
  
 She waved my hip jewelry.   
  
I complied. Karen gagged when I put in my tongue ring.   
  
I added my Juicy charm bracelet, the lucky one with thirty-six charms, and bam! I was done.   
  
“You’re ready. Knock ’im dead!”   
  
There came a knock at the door. Perfect timing. I looked through the peephole. There was Matt, chewing his lip, playing with his floppy hair, fully bloomed red rose in hand, and tapping his foot impatiently, wearing a grey collared shirt, black blazer, pink socks, black shoes and cuffed jeans.   
  
I motioned for Karen to hide. She quickly padded into the closet. “Cheers!” I mouthed.  
She nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. I put my hand on the doorknob and looked back at my friend. She winked and disappeared with a flash of red.   
  
I confidently swung the door open.   
  
  
“Hello,” I smiled, flipping my feathered bangs out of my eyes with a nod of my head.   
  
“Hi,” Matt replied, smiling back and running a hand through his hair and looking me up and down. He brandished the rose and grinned. “For you, love. You look beautiful.”  
  
“Oh, thank you so much!” I blushed. “I love roses.” I set the flower on my nightstand and grabbed my purse.   
  
“Let’s go.” Matt subtly slid his arm around my waist as we walked towards the lift.   
  
“So, what’s it like working with The Moff twenty-four seven?” he asked as we descended.   
  
“He’s all right, mostly,” I answered, flipping my bangs out of my eyes again. “Albeit a little protective of me.”  
  
“Ah, that’s our Moffat,” Matt said fondly.   
  
“He’s nice though.”  
  
“Yeah, he is.” Matt moved closer to me. “Do you like seafood?”  
  
“I love it! I was born in Chelsea, but we moved to Massachusetts when I was six, so it was all around me.”  
  
“No wonder you sound so different.” Matt said incredulously. “We’re going to Le Monde.”  
  
“Sounds amazing!” I flipped my bangs out of my face again.   
  
“I know, it is.” He opened the car door for me when we reached Le Monde.   
  
The maitre d’ looked at us skeptically.   
  
“Table for two please,” Matt said confidently. I hooked my arm through his again.   
  
We scurried towards a shadowy booth with just enough light so we could see each other.   
  
“So, what’s your favorite sport?” I asked.   
  
“My favourite sport? Football. Blackburn Rovers are the _best!_ Hold that thought, I’ll be right back.” Matt got up and headed toward the restroom, inadvertently tripped over his feet and knocked over a waiter; who luckily wasn't carrying anything.   
I speed walked over to help. “Oh mies, are you all right?”  
  
“Sorry mate, sorry,” Matt brushed himself off. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
The waiter gave Matt a glare and stomped off.   
  
I sat back down. “Anyways....”  
  
“I love your eyes,” Matt commented. “They’re magical. TARDIS blue.”  
  
“Oh, thank you,” I blushed. “They’re two different blues.”   
  
“Really?” He leaned in towards me and looked into my eyes. “They are! Aw, that’s cool! That’s so pretty!”   
  
I blushed again. This was going very well.   
  
He sat there for a minute, gazing into my eyes. I smiled.   
  
Matt snapped out of it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Your eyes are just so pretty! I like blue.”   
  
I giggled and blushed. “No worries. So, what have you been up to?” I flipped my hair over my shoulder.   
  
“Well....y’know, Doctor things,” He blushed and squirmed.   
  
He’s perfect, I thought. Awkward, charming....clumsy, but attractively adorable enough to pull it off. A definite keeper.   
  
I giggled.  
  
“So, what have _you_ been up to?” he asked enthusiastically.   
  
“Google things,” I answered, twisting a lock of hair around my finger.   
  
“Google?” Matt raised his eyebrows in confusion.   
  
“Yes, I worked there before I was....grafted over here for Who,” I answered, picking up an oyster and swallowing it heartily.   
  
Matt cracked a mussel open with his thumb. “You worked for Google, the biggest search engine in the world?” He asked in shock.   
  
“Oh yes,” I answered coolly. “I was in the advertising department.”  
  
“Wow! That’s blooming amazing,” he said. “You’ve really got t’be smart to work for them.”  
  
“Oh, believe me. I know,” I ate the rest of the oysters. “I had to submit my application twice before they accepted me. And I went to Harvard!”  
  
“They sure are tough. You probably could’ve gotten in on looks alone without even trying.” He smiled.   
  
I blushed and tightened the bow on my shirt.   
  
His eyes wandered up to mine again. Ah well, better eyes than cleavage like most guys I had speed-dated.   
  
“I'm sorry,” he said apologetically.   
  
“It’s all right,” I flipped my hair out of my eyes again.” If he was gonna flirt with me, then I would fucking flirt back! Not that I didn’t enjoy it.   
  
“So, I hear you’re very clumsy.” I said flirtatiously.   
  
“You heard that from Kaz, didn’t you?” He asked.   
  
“Yeah....”  
  
“Urgh, that girl just can’t keep her ginger mouth shut.” He shook his head.   
  
“That’s perfectly fine. I’ve been acting since I was six and I still have two left feet.” I bit my lip.  
  
“Really?” Matt looked confused. A soft buzzing and tinny music came from his side of the table.  
  
 _“If you wan-na be with me_  
 _Babay there’s a price to pay,_  
 _I’m a genie in a bottle_  
 _Ya gotta rub me the right way._  
 _If you wan-na be with me—”_  
  
“Oh my God, I’m going to kill Kaz,” Matt said vehemently but playfully, blushing an adorable bright red.   
  
“Gotta make a big impression, I gotta like what you doo-ooo,” I sang jokingly.   
  
“How did that song even become a hit?” he took out his iPhone and set it on the table, tapping out a response.   
  
“Who even was that?” I cocked my head.   
  
“Alex. She doesn’t believe I’m on a date with you.” He rolled his eyes.   
  
I knit my brows and bit my lip in surprise.   
  
“Oh! Sorry. Was I not supposed to let anyone know we were....?” he trailed off.   
  
“No, no....wait, who’s Alex again?” I asked. The name rang a bell.   
  
“You met her. Tall, curly blonde hair, really nice.”  
  
“Oh, her. Okay okay.” Her smiling face face flooded back into my mind’s eye.  
  
  
“She gets all the cool gadgets and I only have a Sonic Screwdriver.” Matt pouted.   
  
“Well, a Sonic can do anything,” I added.   
  
He nodded. “So, how d'you like it here?”  
  
“It’s interesting....never been here, don’t know anyone. Karen was my first friend.”   
  
“Really? She’s like, your opposite. You’re so reserved....she’s so not.... You’re so demure, Kaz is always up to something....” 

  
“Er....” I bit my lip. 

  
“She’s trouble,” Matt said warningly. “But I love her. She's my best mate. Even if she could rob a bank if she wanted to.”   
  
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I said sympathetically. “She’s nice too.”  
  
“Yeah, she is, just can be nosy.”  
  
“I noticed.” My iPhone buzzed. Guess who texts me? That’s right, Karen!   
  
 _How's it going? Any :*? ;) Kaz x_  
  
“Sorry.” I unlocked my iPhone and replied:   
  
 _Noooo, no :*. I don’t kiss - or shag for that matter - on the first date if I can help it. Cath xx_  
  
  
“S’all right. It was Kazza, wasn’t it.”  
  
“Indeed,” I nodded.   
  
“See what I mean?” Matt ran a hand through his hair.   
  
  
“She is kind of nosy,” I admitted. “But at least she doesn’t judge like the people at Google. They took one look at my tattoos and piercings and labelled me ‘strange’.”

"That's so mean!” Matt looked concerned. “It’s what you act like that counts. We don’t judge here though.”   
  
  
“Er....really?”  
  
“No, not at all. That’d be mean. May I see the one you have on your wrist?” Matt smiled, and gestured to the winking Bettie Page tattoo on my right wrist with a banner that said "Never Again."   
  
“Really?” I bit my lip. What if he saw my cuts? He said he didn’t judge, but still....  
  
“I don’t bite,” he joked, waggling his eyebrows. “Unless you want me to.”  
  
I giggled and showed him my wrist.  
  
“I like it. What inspired you to get it?”  
  
I looked at my tattoo then back at him.   
  
“The X-Files,” I answered casually, flipping my bangs out of my face. It's kind of my thing.   
  
“You like The X-Files? Funny, you don't seem like the sci-fi type.”  
  
“Oh yes. I loved The X-Files when I was younger.”  
  
Matt nodded. “You’re interesting,” he concluded.   
  
“So are you,” I said sincerely, smiling. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the date, Cath has a quiet day in and finds a flyer....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sap and I carn't write. The end.

Before I knew it, it was nine-thirty. The date went great! We got on like a house on fire, laughing, talking, and just finding common ground in general. He was flirting with me the whole time by the way, which I found quite flattering.   
  
“Tonight was great.” I said, cheeks aching from laughter. “I was thinking coffee?”   
  
“Sure....coffee,” Matt replied. “Meet me at the Starbucks downtown on Monday.”  
  
“What time?” I asked.   
  
“Eight-ish?” he responded sheepishly, giving me the puppy eyes again.   
  
Awwwww!   
  
I bit back the urge to snog that adorable look off his face and leave streaks of my YSL lipstick in its place.  
  
“Perfect. G’night,” I said gleefully, smiling.   
  
“Goodnight,” Matt winked.   
  
I leaned back against the door and watched him walk away, practically skipping. “She likes me, she likes me,” I heard him sing under his breath. Matt tripped and fell over, again. I stifled a giggle. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, (he didn’t see me) and danced away, happily.   
  
My heart felt as if it were about to burst like the TARDIS in that Van Gogh painting. I was falling in love, madly, irrevocably. And I let it happen! He was silly and sweet and charming....and perfect. Just _perfect._  
  
I swiped my key card. As soon as I did, the first thing I heard was Karen’s voice.   
  
“Cath! I need a fag! Cath! Help me!” came thumping noises and a familiar voice from the closet.  
  
I opened the closet door. “Jeez, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it locked from the inside.”  
  
Karen ran out and gasped for breath. “Oh God, it’s stuffy in there! I need a fag. Join me?”  
  
“Uh....okay.” I said, putting my purse on my bed.   
  
I followed Karen out onto the hotel balcony. She took a pack of “fags” and a lighter from her purse and lit up.   
  
“So, how’d it go?” Karen asked eagerly.   
  
I scooted away from her as she exhaled the repulsive grey smoke.   
  
“It was lovely.” I blushed. “We talked and laughed and....it was just perfect. He’s just perfect.”  
  
Karen rolled her eyes and inhaled.“You wouldn’t think he was perfect if you had t’deal with his clumsiness _ev_ ery day.”   
  
“Oh, but he is,” I said, lovestruck. “I am experiencing a rush of oxytocin and dopamine, and a pleasurable sensation in the cerebral cortex.” I giggled, blushing.  
  
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak geek,” Karen joked, tapping the ashes off and putting out her cigarette. She followed me back inside then sat on the bed next to me.  "Did he kiss you?" she blurted, face lighting up with a jokey grin.  
  
“I knew that was coming. And no.” I retorted, frowning and biting my lip.   
  
“Why are you frownin’?” Karen asked in concern.   
  
“It’s just....what if he doesn’t like me?” I worried, clicking my tongue barbell.   
  
“Cath, don’t worry. He does like you!” She said enthusiastically. “And stop doing that. It’s disgusting!”   
  
“How do you know?” I asked.   
  
“Trust me. I’ve been around his stupid face for three years now. I know his reactions like the back of my hand.” Karen adopted a serious tone.   
  
“Oh, all right.” I ferreted through the minifridge and grabbed a can of Dr Pepper. I tossed Karen one and sat down.    
  
I unlocked my iPad. “D’you know of anything happening this week? I want something to do besides work. Preferably something social?”  
  
Karen tapped her chin. “Hm....welllllll....er....there is a singles mixer at the lounge in your hotel tomorrow. I don’t think you’d be interested in that, would you?”  
  
“Sort of, actually.”   
  
She pulled a hot pink flyer out of her purse. “I got this in the post last week. I’m not going, but if you want you can have it.”  
  
I snapped a picture with my iPhone and set the flyer on my bedside table.   
  
“Well, I’d best be going, it’s nigh on ten now,” Karen looked at her watch.   
  
“Yes. I’m still not used to the time changes,” I lied.   
  
“Oh, you’re not from here, are you?"  
  
“I was born in England, but when I was six my family moved to Massachusetts, and I now live in New York City.”  
  
“Lucky! I love New York.”  
  
“I do too. ‘Tis where I began.”  
  
She gathered up her things and headed towards the door.   
  
“Karen?” I started.   
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You’re a good friend. Thank you for helping me.”  
  
“No problem.”  
  


* * *

  
  
I woke up to rain pattering the panes of the French doors. I love rain; but I love sunshine more....looks like I’m staying in today.   
  
I got out my drawing pad and markers. What should I draw? I wondered.   
  
Hmmm....  
  
Tap of the marker....tap of the marker....  
  
Something romantic....  
  
But what?  
  
Then it hit me.   
  
I uncapped my dark brown marker and drew the adorable flop of hair in front of his eye. And my long, thick buttery blonde waves. I’m a natural blonde, but I dyed it dark-to-light so it'd still be at least somewhat natural. I was afraid people wouldn’t take me seriously if I were blonde.   
  
In a swirl of colors, I finished my artwork. I was kissing Matt, deeply. Snogging him, really. My arms were about his neck, and his hands squeezing my ass. Don’t judge me. I was going wherever my mind took me. Wherever. It was wonderfully bright and colorful; and I swiped the colors with a makeup sponge about the edges to make it look like a soft focus.   
  
I flipped to a clean page.   
  
My iPhone buzzed.   
  
A message from Matt popped up on my Casablanca lock screen. Day. Made.   
  
Matt: _Hello x_  
  
I squee’d and texted him back.   
  
Me: _Hiya~_  
  
Matt: _what are you doing? X_  
  
Me: _drawing...._  
  
Matt: _oooh, what are you drawing? Xx_  
  
Me: _you, actually :)_  
  
Matt: _really? I'm not that handsome am I? ;) x_  
  
 _Dahling please, you’re like Clark Gable_ , my inner voice said dreamily.   
  
Me: _never underestimate the power of markers. (;_  
  
Matt: _I'm sure you're a lovely artist ;) x_  
  
Me: _aw you are too sweet :3_  
  
I just went ahead and got to it.   
  
I drew Matt again, but this time, much bigger and more colorful. He was kicking a soccer ball high into the air, beaming ear to ear. I drew him like a professional English footballer; jersey, cleats and all.   
  
I snapped and messaged him the picture.   
  
Buzz.   
  
Matt: _that's lovely!!!! It looks like a photo._  
  
Me: _thank you~_  
  
Matt: What else do you draw?  
  
Me: _Oh y’know....things._  
  
Matt: _what kind of things? ;) x_  
  
Me: _funny things, geeky things, and things that would make you blush (; xx_  
  
Matt: _Oh really ;) xxx_  
  
Me: ( _; talk to you later Steven is nailing me._  
  
Matt: _:O what?!_  
  
Me: _*necking *napping *nabbing_   
  
Me: _*nagging. Blasted autocorrect_   
  
Matt: _Oh. Ha ha :) Steven is married anyway x_

  
Me: _Phew! Talk to you later._   
  
Matt: _byeee xxx ;)_  
  
Me: _bye x_  
  
I put down my iPhone and picked up my marker.   
  
As soon as I did, my iPad beeped. I looked at the screen. It was a FaceTime.   
  
Phoebe is calling.   
  
Phoebe? The Phoebe I knew from Google? I hadn’t seen her in ages! She was my only friend there! I missed her dearly. She and I were both on the Arts/Admin team and would sit together at lunch, because there were only four other people on the team: Jerry, Rebecca, Liane, and Terrance.   
  
Jerry and Liane are dating. Liane was really bossy and dragged Jerry, who was frankly kind of a namby-pamby, into all of her sick schemes to embarrass me and Phoebe, and threatened to end the relationship when he didn’t comply. Rebecca, her partner in crime and my secretary, would put the plan in action, whether it be talking shit about us being a couple, framing us for stealing a MacBook, or making fun of Phoebe when said she was pregnant (mind you; my friend is due in a month and is happily married.) I screamed at Rebecca in front of everyone for the latter.  
  
Terrance, who is a girl, was all beauty and no brains. She never knew what she was doing and was the most ignorant person I’d ever met. Liane had that whole little group under her thumb, except me and Phoebe. They never did any work—just pushed it all off on us—still managed to take the credit and bonuses (mind you, we still got paid, and then some) and would sit together and exclude us. We don’t even know why!  
  
I answered the call.   
  
“Asquith!” My comrade greeted me excitedly from the other end of my iPad. Her curly auburn hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun-type-thing and her eyeliner was smudged beneath her almond-shaped hazel eyes and all over her sharp cheekbones. She looked tired but elated.   
  
“Hi!” I answered, excited to talk to my friend.   
  
“How’s Who been treating you? Tell me everything.” Phoebe leaned in, interested.   
  
“Well, I went on a date with Matt Smith,” I said truthfully, flipping my bangs out of my eyes. “It was lovely. And I have a crush on him. He fancies me back, y’know. It’s just the both of us are too shy to make the first move.”   
  
  
“Awww,” Phoebe cooed. “I knew you’d find someone. There aren’t any people like Liane, are they?"  
  
“Nope, not at all. I found a friend. Her name is Karen.”   
  
“Good, I don’t want anyone else destroying your self confidence. And anyway; that whole group is getting fired next month.” She smiled.   
  
“How’d you get that to happen?” I asked incredulously.   
  
“I complained to the boss and he agreed to let them go, that simple,” Phoebe shrugged.  
  
“Why is your makeup all smudgy? You look like a raccoon that plays football.” I wrinkled my nose.   
  
“We were procrastinating on putting the nursery together and we did it all last night. Well, Brent did it all last night. I mainly just crabbed at him to come back to bed. Takes a lot out of you, y’know.” She rubbed at her eye with her fist, eyeliner streaking off her eye area and onto her cheeks. She looked at her hand.   
  
“Cheap-ass eyeliner,” Phoebe said wanly. “I am going to pop. My hips are fucking killing me.”   
  
“Pillow between the knees,” I nodded.   
  
“Stop moaning. Cath doesn’t wanna hear about your pregnancy woes, honey. _I_ don’t wanna hear about your pregnancy woes!” a joking male voice came from behind Phoebe.   
  
Phoebe rolled her eyes and huffed.   
  
“That’s because you don’t have pregnancy woes to moan about!” She thundered.   
  
I jumped in surprise. “Jeez! Scared the shit outta me!”  
  
“Ooo, I yelled so loud I made the baby kick. Achievement!” Phoebe snickered and touched her stomach. “Sorry about that. Dear Husband is being insensitive. I’ll moan at him later.”  
  
“’Tis all right. I miss you. Is Liane still torturing you?”   
  
“I miss you too....and no; she’s lightened up a bit, which worries me.”  
  
“Ooft, that is worrisome,” I said. “Why?”  
  
“Don’t know. But anyway, I have to go, I   
have to put the rest of the decals on the wall in the nursery. I’ll iMessage you later, kay?”  
  
“All right. Bye!”  
  
“So long!”   
  
Phoebe’s end went dark. I sighed. What was I gonna do all day?   
  
  
I put down my iPad to charge and began on a robot drawing.   
  
It would be a long day.


	5. Stirred, Not Shaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cath runs into a certain cucumber at her hotel lounge.

I adjusted the giant cream grosgrain bow clip on the side of my head and entered the lounge, conveniently located in the lobby of my hotel. I was greeted by lots of once-overs.   
  
As I walked towards the well lit bar, I looked up and found a big, garishly colourful banner that read WELCOME SINGLES! in jazzy orange letters.   
  
I sat at the bar and tapped my tastefully long, gel’d turquoise nails in anxiety. They matched the hot pink halter swing dress I wore, studded with white polka dots, and a sweetheart neckline that accentuated my décolleté. I loved it. Not to mention my black patent leather T-strap flats I wore with it. Can you believe it? My first date outfit! Without help from Karen!   
  
“What would you like, love?” The bartender asked, his tone enticing.   
  
“A double martini please, straight up, very dry. And stirred, not shaken,” I said confidently. I’ve adored classic cinema since I was a child and I had watched so many Cary Grant movies that I knew how to do it by heart.   
  
“Don’t you mean ‘shaken, not stirred?’” a deep, velvety English accent came from behind me.   
  
“....No?” I replied nervously. What the fuck?!  
  
I whirled around.   
  
And looked right into the wide-set, almond shaped, positively dreamy sea-green eyes of a tall, muscular blonde Englishman. He was tastefully garbed in a powder-blue suit and was absolutely gorgeous, with hollow, sharp, yet prominent cheekbones in an oblong pale face.  
  
Not to mention soft, inviting lips with a well-defined cupid’s bow.   
  
“Ho-hello,” I stammered, smiling shyly.   
  
“Hello,” he answered. “My apologies for scaring you. I’m Benedict. And you?”  
  
“Catharine Asquith, but you can call me Cath. Sit with me?” I collected my freshly made martini and my clutch and got up.   
  
“Sure.” Benedict collected his vodka tonic (yes, I can tell a drink just by looking at it, thanks to countless episodes of Mad Men and again, classic cinema) and followed me towards an empty purple love seat.   
  
I tucked my foot neatly under me and sat down.  
  
“So, what’s someone attractive like you doing at a singles mixer?” he asked, chuckling.   
  
“Attractive? Me? _No,”_  I answered modestly. “I’m just a geeky lonely-heart looking for someone with similar interests.” I stared into my martini. "I was wondering the same thing about you."  
  
“Oh, stoppit, you're just saying that.”  
  
“No, I'm not," I smiled.   
  
“People always associate me with my on-screen persona.”  
  
“Oh? I’m ‘weird’ because I like video games, comics and Harry Potter. Oh, and The X-Files. I’m a die-hard X-Phile.” I nodded. “But no one can put up with my interests. Most people aren’t derivatives. They can’t lie tangent to my curves.”  
  
“I like comics.” Benedict smiled. “Why would you be weird for liking comics?”  
  
“Because I’m female,” I answered.   
  
“Ah. Well I think intelligence is sexy,” Benedict half-smiled suggestively.   
  
“Are you coming onto me?” I raised an eyebrow.

"Are _you_ coming onto _me?_ " He echoed and raised an eyebrow back.  

"I asked first."

"Yes, I am."   
  
"That's what I thought." 

I leaned closer towards him. “Has anyone ever told you you are one well-defined function?” I twirled a blonde end about my finger and adopted a flirty tone, just like I saw Alex do to Matt. (Had to admit, I got jealous.) I learned a lot about how to flirt from her, just by watching her on set.   
  
“You minx!”   
  
I giggled innocently.   
  
“You aren’t dressed like a tart like the other girls here. I like that.”  
  
“Thank you. So what do you do?” I asked, adjusting my dress.   
  
“I’m an actor,” Benedict straightened his tie. “For the BBC right now....”  
  
“Oh really? I write for Doctor Who!”   
  
“Oo, it must be a tough job, isn’t it? Do you know Matt Smith?”

_Oh._

I blushed at his question.  
  
“Yes I do. It’s not tough yet; but I have a feeling it’ll get harder,” I said truthfully. “I’ve only been here for a day.”  
  
“He's a good friend of mine.”  
  
“Oh," I bit my bottom lip and shifted. 

  
“You’re very quiet,” Benedict observed a curl popping free from his slicked-back hair.

  
“I’m loud where it counts," I countered, winking. Benedict blushed.  
  
  
“So you are coming onto me," he smirked.

"Maybe," I answered flirtatiously, sipping my martini. The gin burnt my throat.

  
Benedict bit his lip.   
  
His green eyes searched mine. Was I the only one who did that?  
  
“You’re doing that,” I said tentatively.   
  
“Doing what?”   
  
“Eye reading. You’re reading my eyes. I do that too.” I pointed out, fluttering mine.   
  
“Oh, y-yes. Force of habit.” He chuckled. “Speaking of eyes, is it just me, or are yours two different blues?”   
  
“No, no, it’s not you, they are two different blues,” I fluttered my lashes.   
  
“That’s beautiful.”  
  
“Thank you,” I hid a smirk behind a sip of my martini.   
  
He smiled and scratched at his neck.   
  
“So what have you been doing?” I daringly placed my hand on his knee, feeling the alcohol kick in slightly.   
  
“Not much, we just wrapped ‘The Reichenbach Fall’ for Sherlock, so I’m sort of just cooling my heels,” he replied. He didn’t push my hand away.   
  
“Oh.”  
  
There was a pause.   
  
“Sorry, I’m just at a loss for words. I’m a logophile.”  
  
“You love words?”  
  
“Yes. Indeed I do.”  
  
He chuckled. Quiet and gentlemanly. He seemed nice; but not really my type


	6. Chapter 6

I stopped for a Starbucks on the way into work. It was a beautiful day, sunny yet cloudy for eight a.m. I was wearing my favorite coral Renaissance-style top with a square neckline. It had ties in the front bodice, bell sleeves, and a flowy hem. My favorite acid-wash distressed flare jeans, badger charm bracelet, (I fucking love charm bracelets, okay?!) owl earrings and pendant, paired with indigo platform pumps completed the hipster look. I'd fit right in.   
  
Speaking of fitting in, a few minutes after I sat down with my grande caramel Frappuccino, complete with extra caramel and coffee; and my iPad, I got a text from Matt.   
  
 _Look up and to your right ;) x_  
  
I compiled and saw Alex, Matt, Karen and Arthur all sitting at a table with their Starbucks and waving me over.  
  
I waved back, collected my iPad and Frappuccino and sat in the empty spot next to Matt.  
  
“‘Ello, Catharine.” He winked.   
  
“Konichiwa,” I responded. I spoke fluent Japanese, Korean, French and Latin, thanks to a rigorous language program in grade school. And I was an Otaku; so I picked up a lot of Japanese off Hetalia, Vocaloid, and Sailor Moon.   
  
“You never told me you spoke Japanese,” Matt said, surprised.   
  
“I was just about to say that,” Alex chimed in.  
  
“Surprise?” I said awkwardly.   
  
“Yes, I suppose so,” Arthur joked.   
  
“So, do you all do this every day?” I asked innocently.   
  
“Yes we do,” Alex answered, sipping her coffee.  
  
“Oh, cool! Why didn’t Steven inform me of this?” I giggled.

 _Shut up and drink your Frappuccino, you dumb bitch. They didn’t tell you about this because you haven’t even been here for a month! Don't get your hopes up, Catharine, you’re just a writer._ My inner voice snapped acidly.   
  
“Look! Twinsies!” Karen yelped, showing me her identical Frappuccino.  
  
“Cool!” I said just as enthusiastically.   
  
“So, Catharine, you wanna give us a little spoiler about what's gonna happen next season?” Matt asked teasingly.   
  
“Um....”  
  
“Matthew, don’t do this to her,” Alex chided, nearly spilling her coffee. “I remember when you did this to me. Why can’t you be patient and wait till you get the script?”  
  
“Because Steven’s scripts are always late,” Matt replied darkly.   
  
“Come on, Catharine, please?” Arthur pleaded.   
  
“I don’t know....um...uh....” I sipped my frosty, caramel-laden Frappuccino thoughtfully.   
  
I looked at the people around me. Karen shrugged and gave me a look that read “Sorry, can’t help you on this one. You’re on your own.” Arthur nodded. Matt waggled his eyebrows and nodded. Alex caught my gaze, shook her curly, dark blonde head and mouthed “No!”  
  
“I—I’ll get back to you on that one. Maybe later?” I blushed and flipped my bangs out of my face.   
  
“Aw, so close,” Matt adopted a sad-puppy look.   
  
“Nice save,” Alex nodded, drained her coffee and sat the empty paper cup back on the table.   
  
“You probably know what’s gonna happen, don’t you Kingston?”   
  
“Nope, completely clueless. Cross my heart.”  
  
“Steven’s sworn me to secrecy.” I nodded.   
  
I tapped my foot rhythmically on the floor while I waited for my iPad to boot up, staring distractedly out the window at bustling Cardiff, until I realized it wasn’t even on.   
  
“Silly me,” I blushed and pressed the power button. “You all can use it if you want,” I unlocked it and set it in the middle of the table.  
  
“Icalldibs!” Karen, all spindly limbs and caffeine-induced-enthusiasm, grabbed it first. “I wanna see what apps you have,” she demanded.   
  
“Kaz! You can’t just grab it like that! She said ‘you all can use it!’ Not ‘Kazza can snatch it away and keep it for herself!’” Matt protested, air quoting generously.  
  
“Why don’t we just take turns?” Arthur asked calmly.   
  
“I like Arthur’s idea,” I counseled. “You take turns.”   
  
Arthur raised his eyebrows smugly at his friends and flashed his adorable lopsided grin.   
  
“Shut up, stupid,” Karen retorted, flipping her ginger locks triumphantly and tapping at the screen. Matt and Arthur stood behind her and looked over her shoulder.   
  
I caught Alex’s gaze, subtly pointed at the gang, all engaged in my costly Apple product, and rolled my eyes.   
  
“I know,” she mouthed, nodding.   
  
The trio seemed to be engaged in a game of Fruit Ninja (judging by the sound effects,) as they passed my iPad back and forth. “High score! Told you I’d beat you, Kazza,” Arthur gloated.   
  
Karen narrowed her eyes at him and searched for a comeback. “Well, you started before me!”  
  
“Be nice,” Alex and I said simultaneously.   
  
“It’s my turrrrrrrrrn,” Matt whinged, reaching his infinite arms towards her.   
  
“Wait, I need to finish this game,” Karen swiped her finger frantically across the screen, and then handing it to my crush.   
  
Crush. It was such a funny word to me, I hadn’t used it in so long. At twenty-eight, I felt I was just a little too old for—crushes, having had my [immature] heart broken at eleven.   
But I was in love again, and I let it happen.   
  
 _C'est la vie_. 


	7. "Gathering Information"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the quotes are supposed t be there. I wrote this like 567898765456 months ago - waaaaay before I had an AO3, so bear that in mind. My character is /such/ a Mary Sue, but I still go on with this fic.

  
“Hello, Karen,” I said pleasantly.   
  
“Hey, Cath,” she replied. “What’s up?”  
  
I moved in closer towards her and spoke just above a whisper. “Can you do me a favour? It’d be much appreciated.”  
  
“Yeah, whaddaya want me to do?”  
  
“This may sound silly, but could you glean information about how Matt and Arthur feel towards me? You know them well enough.”  
  
“Why do you want me to? Cath, they like you, believe me! I _know_ it!” Karen pressed.   
  
“Because I’m too shy to do it myself. Please?”  
  
“Okay, fine.” Karen sighed. I watched, unseen, from behind Steven’s desk as she confidently sauntered over to the pair, sitting next to each other and apparently engaged in a debate: owls versus badgers. _Pff, what are they talking about? Sea otters win every time,_ my inner voice scoffed.   
  
“Hi, Matt, Arthur,” Karen said, convivially as usual.   
  
“Hi Kaz,” they answered. “Something happen?”  
  
“Whaddaya think of the new writer?” Karen piped up innocuously.   
  
“Oh, the pretty one with the pad and the specs?” Arthur ruffled his sandy hair, a script across his lap. “What’s her name? Cristina? Caitlin?”  
  
“Catharine.” Karen corrected.   
  
“That’s her name. She's nice. And her taste in music is fantabulous,” he continued cheekily.   
  
My heart swelled. Wow! I’d never been called pretty before. 

“What about you Smith?” Karen sounded like a reporter.  
  
“She’s very beautiful. Super-smart. And a great flirt to boot. And I really love her tattoos and art. D’you know her eyes are two different blues? She—she’s a ten! No—a twenty-five,” Matt enthused, like a third-grader who got an A+ on a math test. N’aww.   
  
“How do you know that, mate?” Arthur asked suspiciously.   
  
“Erm....” Matt scratched at the back of his neck.  
  
“Oooo, someone has a crushy-pooo,” Karen cooed. “Do you fancy her?”

No, Karen! No, why?! You can't just be blunt like that! I wanted to say.   
  
“I do not!” Matt snapped, ran a hand through his hair and squirmed uncomfortably.  
  
“Well, she's....all right,” Arthur admitted, shrugging.  
  
“Eeeeee!” Karen squealed.   
  
“I spoke too soon,” Arthur sighed.   
  
“You said it, mate,” Matt agreed.   
  
“And anyway, what do you care Kaz?” Arthur asked.   
  
“Steven wants in-poot on whether or not she should stay.” Karen nodded.   
  
“Yeah yeah yeah, she should. The script she wrote is phenomenal!” Matt got excited again.   
  
“Agreed.” Arthur nodded.  
  
“Welp, that’s all I needed to hear. I have to go....e-mail this to Steven now, exempt from the fancying bit. Bye!” Karen scurried away.   
  
She popped her head into my little enclave. “Cath, you can come out now.”   
  
“I heard everything! Thank you, Karen, you’ve done so much for me. How can I ever repay you?” I asked hopefully, hugging her.   
  
“With a game of Fruit Ninja!” Karen hugged back. “You give really nice hugs.”  
  
“Done!” I pulled away and handed her my iPad.


	8. Chapter 8

“No, Kazza! Iwannit!” Matt snatched my iPad out of Karen’s hands. Sheesh, these two. I’d been there for a week, you’d think I’d gotten used to it. But you never knew what was gonna happen with “Karen and the Babes,” as Matt, Karen and Arthur called themselves.   
  
“But I need to finish my gaaaaaame,” Karen whined.   
  
“Too bad, Plural Chins,” Matt tapped at the screen and laughed maniacally.   
  
“Oh noes.” I came up behind him to see what havoc he was wreaking on my precious pad.   
  
He had opened Doodle Buddy, with a photo of Steven as the background and was defacing it, giving him a complete, horrifyingly gaudy makeover with the Paint and Glitter Draw tools. Including his hair.   
  
Karen sidled up next to me. “What is he doing that’s more fun than Fruit Ninja?” she asked moodily.   
  
“I don’t even know.” I shook my head.   
  
Karen plopped into the seat next to mine. “He’s so....him.”   
  
“Agreed,” I grinned stupidly.   
  
“Here, Kaz,” He passed my iPad back to Karen, smirking.   
  
She looked at the grotesque portrait on the screen and proceeded to almost die laughing.   
  
“Oh, jeez, that is hysterical!” Karen, squealed, her face as red as her hair. “Mmmm....and....E-mail photo! To Steven!” And with a press of a send button Karen ruined my life.   
  
“Oh, fuck Karen what’d you do?!” I exclaimed.   
  
“E-mailed a little photo to Steven, that’s all,” she answered casually.   
  
“He’s gonna kill me!” I put my head in my hands.   
  
“You’re screwed, Matthew,” Karen said sassily.   
  
 _“Very funny, Matt!”_ Steven bellowed from the next room.   
  
“What? You look gorgeous!”  
  
I burst out laughing at Matt’s cheeky reply, snorting noisily in the middle.   
  
Steven appeared at the doorway, arms crossed and short legs akimbo. He raised his eyebrows pointedly at a sheepish Matt and cleared his throat.  
  
“I didn’t mean to,” I tried to diffuse the tension, unsuccessfully, trying to maintain my position on Steven’s good side.   
  
Steven said nothing, scowling at Matt and Karen.   
  
“You’re telling Caro about this, aren’t you,” Matt hung his head.   
  
“Yes, I am. Now give Cath her pad back.” Steven said sternly.   
  
“Okay,” he sighed and handed me my iPad.   
  
“Thank you.” He left as quickly as he appeared.   
  
“Is he always like this?” I asked hopefully.   
  
“Yeah, Grandpa Moffyface is just in a mood. He’ll get over it.” Matt rolled his eyes.   
  
I definitely hoped so.


End file.
